Carousel
by Lunamaria
Summary: It was the first crack of thunder that woke her.


It was the first crack of thunder that woke her.

And, to be honest, it wasn't the first time, but rather another night in a long list of many nights. She rolled over, gasped for air and then settled back into her sheets, reaching a hand behind her to remind herself. She wasn't alone._ I'm not alone_. Eugene stirred only a little as she laid her hand across his chest, palm rising and falling with his slumbering breath. He was alive. _He was alive_. With that relief, she gathered a sheet around her and left their bed.

She didn't go far, only a few feet. They slept with the doors to their balcony open when rain was sighing forward, hanging heavy over the sky. Something that, Rapunzel supposed, had made sleeping harder than she dared confess. She tiptoed, blanket bunched over her shoulders, over to a seat by the open doors. There she watched it rain, watched the sky light up in a terrifying way, hear the clouds moan and scream loudly at her. It was there, lost in the storm, that she remembered.

Her mother had always been home when it rained, which was why Rapunzel used to love rainstorms. Back then, she would do anything for her mother's company. When all she had was a bit of wall space and Pascal, that woman was her universe. Everything she knew and loved came and went through her, like her mother was the moon and she a tide drawn back and forth by it. Her mother had been… well, _everything_. In truth, she still was. Because when she thought of Gothel in her mind, it was always as 'my mother'. The queen was her mother too, but differently. Gothel had raised her, _was_ her mother, always would be. The rain had proven that.

Rapunzel watched the storm with wet eyes, raising the sheet to clear the tears. They were ridiculous, nonsensical tears. That woman had tried to kill the man she loved, caused her to wake in the middle of the night with nightmares. That monster still frightened her out of sleep, damp with sweat and afraid that he had never survived. She would throw her hand across his chest to check for breath and then catch her own, thankful that he lived. Thankful that _she_ didn't. And, yet. Not matter what her mother had done, and by God there was no sense to it, she loved her. The thing Rapunzel learned on nights like these, curled up before raw nature, was that people cannot chose whom they love. They cannot choose whom they feel compassion for, either, or whom they hate. For Rapunzel felt all those things about her mother. _People_, she sighed, _people are impossible creatures_. And she wondered, very wistfully, if maybe her mother had loved her too. Somewhere, thought Rapunzel, somewhere inside of her, it had to be true.

As her thoughts kept on, for hours maybe, Rapunzel felt a soft hand on her shoulder. Maybe this would be the night that was different. She was not the type to withhold secrets, on account of how blatantly she wore her feelings, but she had managed this one from him. She kept her love to herself, her irrational, hopeless love. Maybe she could tell him.

"Eugene," she said gently, pulling his hand into both of hers. There was a strain in the voice he heard, something tight and new. An odd note to it.

"Rapunzel?" he leaned forward, rubbing a thumb just under both eyes. Sure enough, tears fell onto his fingers. And, as they are known to do, with one tear came the next and, by then, there was just no stopping them.

"Eugene," Rapunzel cried, "I miss her so much, Eugene. I miss her_ so much_."

She hadn't said anything before, but she didn't need to. The odd thing with people, he knew, was that there was no stopping love. You couldn't simply love someone for years and years and then discard all of that onto the floor without a glance back. Perhaps there were those that said otherwise, but he knew better. Love was love, and love was incomprehensible. Even to bad mothers.

Eugene led Rapunzel, one hand at the small of her back, to bed and held her there through all of the rain for that night and for the many others following. It was the best thing anyone could do for a crying wife.

* * *

><p><em>I don't know, but this was an idea that popped into my head. I wasn't really thinking about Tangled, but it kind of happened. I kept thinking how ridiculous a notion it was to expect Rapunzel stopped loving the woman who'd raised her, despite how truly wicked she was. That's love for you. Short, because all has been said. Hope you liked it. And... I think it's cute she calls him Eugene.<em>

_- C._


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